


The One Constant

by bloominghalos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x18, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s15e18 Despair, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27408757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominghalos/pseuds/bloominghalos
Summary: After a life changing hunt, Dean and Castiel get stuck in a cabin when the road into the woods is flooded.Unplanned, accidental sort of pre-coda (is that a thing?) to episode 15x18. No spoilers but I might have... borrowed certain elements unknowingly.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	The One Constant

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing on this for the #SpnStayAtHome challenge on tumblr, but fell into a horrible writer's block. I've been writing a little every month but never got around to finishing it. However, because of the impending doom, eh, tonight's episode, I figured I could finish it in time for that.
> 
> This has not been beta read. If you find any errors please notify me about it on my [tumblr](https://bloominghalos.tumblr.com/ask).

"No service," Dean says after about five minutes of holding his phone up against different windows in the cabin, more to himself than to anyone else who might be quietly listening—or judging—he just needs to confirm his earlier suspicions out loud. _"Son of a bitch._ "

"Dean, I told—"

Dean's eyes are closed when he spins around from the window. There's a sigh caught somewhere in his throat and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Cas, I swear, if you finish that sentence..."

He's too tired for this right now. Half of him wants to sigh a 'yeah, you're right' in reply and slump down on the bed. The other half of him is still too riled up and on edge to relax even for a moment.

Castiel offers him a look of consolation, his hands elevated in small surrender where he's sat on the edge of one of the raggedy beds opposite of where Dean's lingering anxiously by the window.

Despondent, Dean throws his useless phone onto the bed next to Cas and clenches his jaw as he rummages through the last parts of his mind in search of a solution to this mess that they've managed to get themselves into. Sure, okay, bleary eyed and white-knuckled behind the wheel, a pit stop in Sioux Falls to crash at Jody's cabin for a few hours had sounded like a great idea at the time. That was, before the thunderstorm of the goddamn century rolled in and flooded the main road back to the highway _and_ took out the electricity. The five hour—four if you step on it—ride back doesn't seem half bad right now compared to the stale, freezing cabin they're stuck in. Hindsight.

All they've got is two old kerosene lamps placed strategically in the bed- slash living-room part of the cabin that allows the space to be at least somewhat illuminated, the warm yellow light casts crescent shadows on both their faces. Dean suspects he wouldn't look much worse without it, going by how he's feeling. Crestfallen and weighted, exhaustion lurking right around the corner.

He sighs as he slumps down on the side of the bed next to Cas with a grunt, and casts a longing glance at the remote sitting on top of the old television. Besides the low rumble of the thunderstorm outside, and the pattering of rain against the window every now and then when the wind whizzes and whines, the silence grows thick between them. Dean can't remember the last time he felt so uncomfortable sitting in silence next to Cas, but maybe that's got something to do with what happened on the hunt they were trying to get back from.

As if he's reading Dean's mind—and hell, maybe he is—Cas places a hand on Dean's shoulder and urges him to meet his eyes.

"Dean."

"That's me."

Castiel pauses to roll his eyes dramatically. _Not the time for jokes, notes taken_. He sighs before he continues. "I want to apologize—"

"Don't." Dean looks up to meet Castiel's gaze, the warm yellow light reflected in his blues like the sun setting over the ocean. Dean reaches for the hand on his shoulder and places his own on top of Cas', letting his heavy palm cover the back of Castiel's cold, marble-like hand for a brief moment before he moves it down from his shoulder.

He doesn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Not now, not _ever._

Still, despite Dean's effort to end the conversation before it's even started, Castiel continues.

"Dean. I need to tell you this."

Yeah, Dean knows that. He also knows that he probably needs to hear it.

A loud, ear-deafening crack cuts through the silence between them as lightning strikes somewhere amongst the trees in the forest outside the cabin and Dean sucks in a small breath through his nose. The illuminating flash appears at the same time as the thunder, instantaneously painting their faces in stark white. Dean's mind is flooded by ancient memories he's sure are made up from the different stories that Cas has told him, of heaven's wrath and divine powers, holy wars fought on a cosmic battleground.

The rumble lingers, the sound it creates as it reverberates through the forest makes the little hairs on Dean's arms and at the nape of his neck stand up. It's hard to imagine that one of God's best soldiers is sitting right next to him on a shitty bed in a dark cabin somewhere in the woods, calm as a friggin' cucumber while the storm rages on outside. Dean's eyes fall on the space between them, where the quilted bedspread crinkles, and he looks at Castiel's hands where they are clasped loosely in his lap, specks of dried blood still stained on the back of his hands near his wrists where he must've missed to wash it off. He decides to ignore it. Things like that don't shock him anymore, but he still clenches his jaw.

They had come close, this time, closer than Dean is willing to admit, closer than he can pretend that he's comfortable with. Maybe it's the fact he's getting too old to be out hunting certain monsters without serious backup, maybe it's the fact that Cas isn't hooked up to the celestial company benefits these days and has to do grunt work, like Dean. Not that Cas is bad—he's not—but lately Dean's been having a creeping feeling that they're really just two old dudes, and the sooner he accepts that, the better.

"You're quiet," Castiel says, stating the obvious, but something warms still stirs in Dean's chest at the small hint of concern in his voice.

"I'm always quiet," Dean retorts easily and casts a glance at Cas.

Cas' eyes are fixed on Dean, as if he can see right through him. "Uh, _no,_ " he says and tilts his head the slightest, face going soft. "You're only quiet when you're thinking, or when you're conflicted by the swelling emotions that you barely have under your control. When you don't want, or don't know how to, vocalize your inner contemplations, so you'd rather bite your tongue than risk anyone seeing through the cracks."

The words flowing out of Cas' mouth seem to pick up momentum along the way, like a falsely ebbing river that turns into a flood. It's more at once than Dean has heard him say in a long time, and it hits home differently after what happened out on the hunt today. Before he knows what's fully happening he feels as if he's going under, drowning as water fills up his lungs, rendering him speechless. Cas knows him better than anyone, probably better than himself at this point. He's got the patience of a saint and Dean doesn't normally have this hard of a time with being open and vulnerable around Cas but... something is different, this time.

Dean realizes he's been silently staring down at his own hands when Castiel's voice breaks through the silence after what is probably only a minute or two, but feels like a whole lot longer.

"If I made you uncomfortable..." Castiel says and trails off, allowing Dean to react whichever way he wants.

It's too late for a witty comeback, too late to play this off as nothing. Dean knows that he can't hide from Cas, for some reason, and it's only gotten more difficult with time.

"Which time?" Dean says, a tired, half-hearted joke.

Castiel rolls his eyes and Dean grunts. "Cas, you know, I'm never really uncomfortable around you."

"Not even now?"

"Maybe a little."

He glances at Castiel and the angel, tousled hair and scruffy cheeks, deep, heavy lines frame his eyes—he's so far from the hallmark image of a cherub that it's hard to believe someone like him once rolled off the celestial assembly line—he raises a brow and looks at Dean.

"You, uh, you got me pretty worried out there today, huh?" Dean says after a while. His hands have turned red and warm from where he's been twisting them together in his lap.

Castiel sighs. "You want to quit."

Dean says nothing. He sucks in a small breath, but the words get stuck in his throat as it slowly constricts, closing. He can neither confirm nor deny, the words simply don't come, as if they're prohibited from being vocalized. Dean can't say it, despite how his body where he sits, slumped on the edge of the bed, hands on his lap, eyes glued to the floorboards and his boots, is giving away all of his resignation. Damn it. He's not a _coward_. He's a _hero_. He needs to be doing this. Saving people. Hunting things. _The family business_. Because who else is gonna? Who else has all the knowledge and experience and goddamn knack for self-sacrifice to live this kind of life?

He lets out a snort and looks up at Cas, opting for a way to say how he feels without saying too much. "Outside of this life... What do I have?"

It's a question that has been making itself at home in the very back of his mind for quite some time, where he's stowed it away because it's unrealistic and a waste of time to imagine his life as something else besides hunting monsters. After they got rid of God and Jack took over overseeing heaven, things had, at first, seemed to begin to pan out. Sam is halfway out of the life already, tentatively and hopefully beginning to build a life of his own for himself with Eileen, alternating between her place and the bunker. Dean isn't sure he can do that, one foot in and one foot out, he isn't sure he can allow himself the benefit of having hope for something more.

A hand lands softly on his left bicep and grips at him, the way it's gripped him before, raised him from the dark depths of hell and out of his own mind.

Castiel's eyes are earnest when Dean looks at him.

He says, "You have me."

Dean smiles weakly at him, a small pull on the corner of his mouth and he sighs and nods. This life has been long, much longer than a normal life, rough and full of twists and turns, despair and death. If he thinks back, he's never really had a permanent home until the bunker, if one could really call that a home and not, well, a bunker. A hideout. He's been torn up from his roots, time and time again, and learned early on not to form attachments. The only stable elements in his life being his brother, the car, and the random monsters of the week. Dean could always count on hunting being a permanent fixture in his life. At least that never changed. His one constant.

Until he met Cas.

They had come close today. The images flash through Dean's inner eye again. Of Cas all bloodied up around his chest, on the ground, out of breath. To tell the truth, Dean's not really sure how they got out alive, but what he does know, is that if he'd lost Cas... He'd have lost everything.

Maybe, just maybe, hunting doesn't have to be the only everlasting thing in his life, after all.

But first he just. He gotta make sure.

"What you said out there... don't ever, okay? Don't you ever say that again."

Castiel sighs and at first seems to leave it at that, but then his face suddenly hardens and the fingers around Dean's arm grip at him tighter. "No," Cas says. "Dean if... If I... If it's between your life and mine, you must prioritize yourself. If anything ever happens, you have to live."

"Stop. Don't." Dean can swear he tastes bile rise up in his throat. He lets out something between a chuckle and a snort and wants nothing more than to pull away from Cas' hand but he doesn't.

"Dean—"

This time, Dean does pull away, if only the slightest. "Cas, I get it," his voice is dry, the words bitter. "You've lived a pretty grand life, right? Seen it all, heavenly wars, the rise and fall of empires, great, awesome things. But what? You're tired now, done? Cas, compared to you, my life's nothing, not even a fraction of your existence. And you want me to just let you die and that's it? For what? How can you decide that my little life would be more important than..." He trails off then. He can't say it, doesn't even know what he's trying to say. More important than what? Them? _Us?_

Dean almost expects them to start arguing, because with them and these subjects, that's eventually inevitable. But what he doesn't expect is the hand that cups his cheek and turns his face back to Cas. Cas' palm is warm and smells of soap. In his chest, Dean's heart hammers with anger and desperation because he doesn't wanna think of it and he can't believe Cas still brings this shit up when he knows Dean doesn't want to hear about it. He can't imagine losing more people, let alone Cas. Hell, _especially_ not Cas.

"There's nothing not great about you, Dean, or the time of my existence spent with you. The impact you've had on me makes the eons I've lived before you seem like a speck in time in comparison."

Cas' hand is still on his cheek and Dean's own hands are warm with sweat. He's breathing deep and his heart is in his throat and for some reason he feels like he's about to fucking cry, so he chuckles and frowns at Cas.

"The hell am I supposed to say to that?" he says and ignores the way his face is heating up.

"Nothing. You have to know how important you are, to this world, to me."

Dean _knows_. He's known for quite some time. Cas knows too, he's pretty sure. They're just idiots, or maybe Dean's the idiot. Dancing around the subject of what the hell they are for so long. Best friends, closer than most. But what kind of best friends would die for one another? As in, give his life up to save the other, to save world? Betray his own kind and his own family, and ask for nothing in return?

Dean shakes his head.

"Buddy you just told me that if I quit," he pauses and lets out a breath, "if I left this life, then I'd still have you." Dean says before he can stop himself. "That doesn't work if you die."

Castiel scowls at him and thumbs at the top of his jaw in such a way that Dean can _feel_ his annoyance.

"If you quit, if _we_ quit, you won't have to worry about either of us dying anytime soon. Well, at least not more than anyone else."

The air goes still around them for a moment. Dean swears he can hear his own heartbeat. He can feel it, the way it's about to burst out of his chest, he's excited and terrified all at once and he'd probably much rather go up against a whole nest full of vampires than this. Cas is really talking about the possibility of a normal life? It doesn't make sense. Still, the guy has given up armies and miracles for him, they've _won_ for fuck's sake and he still goes with out of hunts and risks his life every damn day for Dean. Fuck, it can't be good for a man his age to have his blood pressure rise like this, right?

Dean swallows. Maybe it's time he gives up something for Cas, too. They both deserve it, right?

"Alright." He says with a small nod.

"Alright," Castiel echoes.

Cas removes his hand from his face then, and Dean misses it instantly.

"It stopped raining," Castiel comments and glances towards the window where the crescent moon can be seen reflected in the glass. "Should I go look if the road cleared?"

Dean does what he should have done a long time ago and grabs his hand and tangles their fingers together.

"Let's stay the night."


End file.
